Fragments Of Forever
by Solemn Slumber
Summary: Harry Potter has tried to be the one everyone wanted. He tried to be the savior, the quidditch star, the boywholived. But he has failed. This is a story about life after madness. Who do you become when you can't be yourself?
1. Soul Searching

Fragments Of Forever

All of my other stories are kind of on hiatus. I think that I've grown as a writer so I'll probably either re vamp them or delete them. Let me know what you guys think I should do okay?

Rated M... ummmm there is violence... and rape... and slash eventually... so yeah, this is a very adult story. Please don't read it if these things offend you. Thanks and don't forget to R&R.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter... but I do own any AU characters and the plot bunnies.

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Chapter One: Soul Searching

Hunger. People say they know hunger but do they really? Hunger, like a gnawing ache in your belly. Hunger, that makes you want to cry. That makes you want to die.

Harry Potter rolled over and tried not to wince as he jarred his broken arm. He was that kind of hungry. He hadn't eaten in days. Almost a week. He was used to it though. The Dursley's never fed him much over the years.

Harry inhaled and tried not to cry. It seemed that all he was doing lately was trying to hold back the tears. He could live with the physical pain. He was nearly invulnerable to it.

But oh, the agony of loneliness. It struck him in the heart like a lead-tipped arrow. It ate at his very soul like poison, carving it's way into his very being.

Harry tried to be silent. He didn't want Uncle Vernon to come back. Who knows what he would do if Harry woke him up again for the second night in a row.

Harry had to stay awake. If he didn't the nightmares would come. They always did now. Before the accident, they only happened when he was stressed but now they came every night.

Harry didn't want to close his eyes. He didn't want to go to sleep. He knew that if he did, they would blame him. And why shouldn't they? He deserved it. He was the one who let them down. He killed them. Their blood would forever be on his hands.

"_Ahhh!_", Harry screamed. His skin crawled and his body shook with the force of his terror. He knew he had to be quiet. Quiet, or Uncle Vernon would come. But the tears, oh the pain, it would not stop. His soul. It hurt, he hurt everywhere.

It didn't make any sense. Why did he hurt so much on the inside when on the outside, he was flawless. He should be mangled, scarred beyond recognition. The agony should be outside, the way it was inside.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon came crashing into the cupboard under the stairs. Harry looked up through tears to see his heaving frame fill the doorway. Vernon thrust his grotesque purple face into Harry's.

"What's all this _bloody_ racket you're making? Do you have any _sodding _idea what time it is? I have an important meeting tomorrow at work and you're keeping me up again! I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll _never_ forget boy! Never mess with Vernon Dursley!", Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's collar and shook him.

Harry could feel his teeth ache as he was shook hard enough to get whiplash. He was startled to see a new look on Uncle Vernon's face.

It was a cruel look, the look one imagines on a murderer's face before they are killed. Uncle Vernon hated Harry but he had never given him a look quite like this one before. It didn't bode well for Harry's punishment.

Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's torn and bloody shirt. The bone chilling sound of tearing fabric spurned Harry into action. "_Let go_!", Harry pulled back sharply, "_Let go_!".

_**Smack!**_

Harry blinked back tears as he cupped his stinging cheek. Uncle Vernon had never hit his face before. Harry could hear his heart pounding, a frantic fluttery beat.

"I'll show you boy! I'll Show you!", Vernon ripped off Harry's shirt and proceeded to yank off his pants. "_**STOP! STOP! NO! NO!**_", Harry had a sickening feeling he knew what was happening.

But that couldn't be right, _could it_? He couldn't be fighting Vernon for this, _could he_? Vernon couldn't want this, _could he_? He had hurt Harry in every way possible so, he couldn't want to do this _could he_?

Harry struggled wildly. He couldn't let this happen. This was all he had left. Everyone had taken so much from him. His name. His identity. His soul. His freedom. His family. His friends. His future.

Fate couldn't want this too, _could it_? Who would be so cruel? So vicious? Vernon pinned Harry to the small cot in the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry could feel it slipping away. The last piece of himself. His innocence. Until now Harry could believe that life would somehow get better. That miracles could happen. Now he knew different.

Harry looked up at the peeling glow-in-the-dark stickers that Dudley had stuck on the ceiling of the cupboard under the stairs. Harry could always remember this moment for as long as he lived.

This was the moment when he lost his innocence. This was the moment when Harry Potter was raped by Vernon Dursley in the cupboard under the stairs in number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. This was the moment when Harry Potter lost his mind.

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	2. Karma

Fragments Of Forever

All of my other stories are kind of on hiatus. I think that I've grown as a writer so I'll probably either re vamp them or delete them. Let me know what you guys think I should do okay?

Rated M... ummmm there is violence... and rape...and mentions of torture... and slash eventually... so yeah, this is a very adult story. Please don't read it if these things offend you. Thanks and don't forget to R&R.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter... but I do own any AU characters and the plot bunnies.

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Chapter Two: Karma

There is a moment in one's life when one makes a decision. Should I keep trying? Or should I give up? Should I let the evils and horrors of life chain me down? Or should I bide my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity and break free of my bondage?

A shaft of pale yellow sun shone on the broken boy that lay on the cot under the stairs of number 4 Privet Drive. Emerald eyes blinked sleepily. He swung his stiff frame off the bed and turned to walk out the door.

Aunt Petunia would be very angry with Harry if he didn't make the breakfast. A glimmer across the room made him turn his head. Dudley's old floor length mirror stood inconspicuously in a corner.

He had a sudden need to see himself. Would he be changed? The emerald eyed boy strode toward the mirror and gazed upon his reflection.

He was naked and bloody. A mirthless laugh escaped him. A christening in blood? It would seem that way.

There was a crack in the mirror, an intricate fissure that bisected the pale boy's body. The mirror was broken. He was broken. But unlike the mirror, he would put them back together again.

"Poor, poor Harry", a pale hand reached up and skimmed the cool glass. "All you ever wanted was for someone to love you unconditionally. How could they do this you?", The hand slid away from the mirror in a sensuous gesture as if stroking a lover.

"I'll fix us Harry. I'll make them pay for what they've done. I'll put us back together again", He stepped over the prone body of Vernon Dursley. He wasn't dead but he would never hurt Harry like that again.

He calmly got into the shower and washed away the night's evidence of evil that clung to his skin in an oily luster. Yes, he would make sure that something like that would never happen to them again. No matter what it took.

A sharp scream rendered the air and the boy smirked in acknowledgment. It seemed as if Aunt Petunia had finally woken up to find Vernon lying haphazardly across Harry's threshold.

He knew what she would find. He was not dead, but in a coma. One from which he would eventually wake. Doctor's would later be baffled at his condition.

It would later become known that the cause of his subsequent nap was fear. Indeed, It would appear that Vernon Dursley had been frightened almost to death.

Aunt Petunia tried to blame it on Harry but there was no evidence and Vernon definitely wasn't talking. The emerald eyed boy would later be found smirking to himself at odd moments in a most serpentine way.

He found he could not wait to go to Hogwarts. This year would surpass any other because this year Harry Potter would not let anyone walk all over him and the world was going to truly see him for himself. The boy- who- lived was no more. In his place was a guardian: strong, clever and agile and a child: weak, fearful, and eager to please.

The world was to blame for the breaking of the boy-who-lived. And the world would pay for it's sins. After all, all was fair in love and war, wasn't it?

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End file.
